


All I Want for Christmas...

by whiskygalore



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Bottom Jensen, Community: smpc, Dom/sub, FaceFucking, M/M, Spanking, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Toppy Jared
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 04:13:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17015505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskygalore/pseuds/whiskygalore
Summary: Written for the SMPC: Jared might be working over Christmas but he still receives a very special Christmas gift.





	All I Want for Christmas...

**Author's Note:**

> My first (slightly rushed, sorry) bash at contributing to the SMPC. Many thanks to Somer and Bee for giving me the chance to play!

 

Working over Christmas sucks. For most people. Jared can’t say he minds too much. True, he’ll miss his mom’s cooking, and kicking back in front of the television with his brother, but he won’t miss his dad’s lectures on finding himself a proper job, one that makes use of his degree (waste of damn money if you ask me… psychology, load of bullcrap), or his uncle’s “jokes”. The guy is an ass at the best of times but it’s after a couple shots of Christmas spirit that his charming homophobia and racism really shines through. Yeah, there’s truly worse things than working at Christmas.  
  
His parents think he’s pulling an extra shift at the animal shelter. Jared may have heavily implied that’s what he was doing. But, as much as he loves his shifts there, that’s not where he’s spending Christmas. As his dad says, “there’s no damn money in charity, Jared.” His dad isn’t wrong. Jared is one of the few paid employees at the shelter, and even then the money he makes is barely enough to survive on. But his second job, well… that a different story. Jared can make more in a couple of days than he makes in a month at the shelter.  
  
And this gig he’s landed over Christmas, it’s a damn gift. A Christmas miracle. Three days, two nights and he’s going to make enough cash to cover his rent for six months.  
  
Jared looks down at his cellphone one last time, double checks he’s got the correct address, looks up and checks the door number… 37. It's the right place, it’s just not quite what Jared had pictured. He’s seen this guy’s details, knows pretty much everything about him; everything from his date of birth, and how much he earns (a lot) to what he likes in bed and the status of his blood tests (clean and clear). And to be honest, he’d expected the guy to live somewhere a little more ostentatious.  
  
This house is nice enough, it’s just incredibly ordinary. And kind of small, nestled inconspicuously between two much larger properties. It’s cute though. In a white picket fence kind of way.  
  
Jared hefts his bag over his shoulder and steps over the actual white picket fence. His boots settling a deep imprint in the virgin snow on the other side. He leaves a messy trail of size 14 footprints behind him as he makes his way to the porch. At the bottom of the steps, he knocks the powdery snow off his boots, and, before he even has a chance to knock, the front door opens, the holly and ivy wreath hanging from it swinging nervously.  
  
The man behind the door lurks hidden in the shadows for a second before letting the light of day break over his face. Jared tries to stay professional, swallowing down his gasp of surprise. He’s seen a photo of Jensen Ackles, but the two dimensional picture on his cellphone doesn’t even begin to do the man justice: hair that hovers on the precipice between blonde and brown, eyes… green and bright, framed by a thick fan of lashes, an adorable freckled nose, and lips, plump and almost lipstick pink, that were surely designed by some generous deity to be kissed.  
  
Jared pinches his thigh to reassure himself he’s not dreaming. If Christmas wishes ever actually came true, he might think Santa had hidden _his_ in this plain little house.  
  
“Hello,” Ackles says, pushing his fingers through his hair, a nervous tick that probably explains the mess of spikes and tufts angled in every direction.  
  
“Hi,” Jared returns, quickly blinking the hearts from his eyes, and shrugging on his professional persona. “Jared Padalecki. You’re expecting me?”  
  
Ackles doesn’t move to let Jared in, shuffling his socked feet anxiously instead. “Yeah… I… look, I think… I think I made a mistake. Maybe—“  
  
Ackles’ anxiety finally snaps Jared out of his mooning. It’s time to earn his money.  
  
“Maybe you could let me in out of the cold and we can talk about it.” Jared smiles, and tilts his head like a harmless puppy. He’s a pro at talking round first-timers with sudden reservations.  
  
Ackles’ fingers twitch against the side of the door, but, as Jared suspected, his manners outweigh his doubts and he eventually stands aside to let Jared in. “I’m sorry, of course, come in.”  
  
Jared discards his quilted jacket, beanie, and boots immediately; the warmth of the house seeping into his bones. That’s good. It means it’s warm enough that he can keep his Sub naked for the next few days without worry. That is, if he can make it through the next ten minutes without Ackles throwing him out of the house.  
  
“Mr. Ackles, if I’m not what you expected, if you don’t like my… appearance… there are other—”  
  
“Gosh, no.” Ackles is the one to jump in this time, much to Jared’s relief; he doesn’t think he could actually walk away and leave Ackles to anyone else. “It’s not that. You… you’re gorgeous. I mean… you’re—,” Jensen gestures at Jared mutely, and Jared tries his best to hide a relieved smile.  
  
“So,” Jared says. “If _I’m_ not the problem, then?” He raises his eyebrow in question.  
  
Ackles rubs at the back of his neck, his cheeks turning an adorable shade of pink. “I just… I was thinking about it… and y’know, it’s Christmas, and you… you shouldn’t have to work… I mean, just because I’m all alone doesn’t mean _you_ should suffer.”  
  
Jared laughs, warm and kind. “Mr. Ackles, can I call you Jensen?”  
  
Ackles nods wordlessly, combs his fingers through his ruffled hair again.  
  
“Jensen, trust me, I’m not here unwillingly. I want to be here. With you. This isn’t some great sacrifice.”  
  
“But… but, Christmas, and your family.”  
  
“My family aren’t your problem. And thankfully, this Christmas, they aren’t mine either.” Jared grins, flashing his dimples. “Look, I’m not gonna lie; the cash you’re paying me to be here for the next few days is a huge incentive, but I do actually enjoy my work. And honestly, I’m really looking forward to spending time with you. Especially now I’ve met you. You’re going to look insanely pretty kneeling at my feet, Jensen.”  
  
Jensen lets out a shocked little gasp at that, his ears blooming a fierce red. Jared is suddenly very sure he’s going to have the best Christmas since Santa left him a green BMX, _and_ a Gameboy.  
  
“Now,” Jared says, deliberately suffusing his tone with a deep rumble of dominance, just to gauge Jensen’s reaction. “We can either make ourselves comfortable and discuss our rules for the weekend, or I can leave. No pressure. The choice is yours.”  
  
Jensen’s eyes, shocked wide, flick to Jared’s before he has to look away. “You… you, uh, you _want_ to be here? With me?”  
  
“I do,” Jared confirms, not a sliver of doubt in his reply.  
  
“Okay,” Jensen says, soft enough that Jared thinks he may be talking to himself. And then, a little louder, with a jerky nod. “Okay. I guess we’re doing this then.”  
  
Jensen leads Jared through to his kitchen, a bright and clean space, with a large solid looking table taking pride of place in the centre of the room. It’s the perfect height for sex. Jared can easily imagine feeding Jensen breakfast at his feet, then bending him over the table, holding his wrists behind the small of his back and fucking him until he screams.  
  
Jensen gestures for Jared to take a seat, and timidly asks if he’d like a drink.  
  
Hastily clearing the image of Jensen spread naked over the table out of his head, Jared asks for a glass of water. He watches Jensen closely as he bustles about the room, opening one cupboard and then another, apparently forgetting where he keeps his own drinking glasses.

There aren’t many rules to discuss face to face. Jared has had the full list of Jensen’s needs, likes, and hard no’s for over a week now. He’s pretty much planned out the next few days. Although, now he’s met Jensen, he’s tempted to change things just a bit. No, that’s a lie, now he’s met Jensen, he’s thrown his dispassionate plans straight out of the window.  
  
“Have you done this before?” Jared asks, curious.  
  
“This?” Jensen says, not turning around as he fetches a jug of water from the refrigerator and begins to pour it into a glass.  
  
“Any of this.” Jared clarifies. “Have you scened before? Been with a Dom? Paid someone to bend you over and spank your pert little ass?”  
  
Water sloshes over the side of the glass as Jensen’s hand shakes. Setting the jug down carefully, he clasps his fingers on the edge of the worktop, as if holding on for support. “I’ve… no… I mean… not paid. I had a boyfriend… a while back, but he… he didn’t understand, not really… he thought, thought I wanted it to hurt… all the time. He… he thought I was… I don’t know… pathetic.”  
  
“He sounds like an ignorant asshole,” Jared says, standing up. He crosses the room in a few easy strides, stopping behind Jensen, cautiously settling his hands on Jensen’s taut shoulders. “I won’t hurt you. I promise. Not in any way you don’t want.”  
  
Jensen’s shoulders don’t relax, his neck stays almost rigidly straight in front of Jared. There’s a lonely freckle behind his ear that Jared has the overwhelming urge to kiss.  
  
“This whole… I mean… you, me hiring you… it was a spur of the moment thing. My friend, Jeff, he… he suggested… and I think he was joking… maybe… but I… the more I thought about it… and I… I didn’t want to be alone at Christmas. Again.”  
  
Something in Jared’s heart, something vital, snaps and unravels at that.  
  
“But,” Jensen says, head drooping. “This is… weird. Right? I’m weird. I mean, I know I am… but asking some stranger to give up their Christmas so they can… can… fuck me,” Jensen spits out the last two words like they taste foul, “that’s twisted.”  
  
Unable to carry on this conversation without looking Jensen in the face, Jared nudges Jensen around, tips his chin up forcing Jensen to meet his eyes. “You’re not weird. Or twisted. I’ve only just met you and I know you’re ridiculously perfect. We’re going to have the best Christmas. I promise. Both of us. Together.”  
  
Jensen tries to look away, but Jared holds his head firm. “I need you to trust me, okay? Do you think you can do that?”  
  
Jensen chews at his bottom lip, drags the delicate flesh between his teeth and bites down. Jared winces, and lets go of Jensen’s chin just to save that beautiful mouth. If anyone’s going to bruise those lips it’ll be Jared.  
  
“I know we’ve just met. But I swear you can trust me. And if not me… then all my glowing references.” Jared smiles. “You’re safe. With me. Okay?”  
  
“I… yes,” Jensen eventually says, breathless and dazed. “I do… trust you.”  
  
“Okay.” Jared nods, dropping his hands to his sides and taking a step backwards. “Okay. What’s your safe word?”  
  
Jared knows it. He wants to make sure Jensen remembers the rules.  
  
“Red,” Jensen says, looking down at his feet.  
  
“And if you need me to pause?”  
  
“Amber,” Jensen says, staring intently down at his wiggling toes.  
  
“And if you’re happy to continue?”  
  
Jensen finally lifts his head, looks Jared straight in the eyes. “Green. Green for go.”  
  
“And I want to be clear. Absolutely clear. You want me to fuck you? You want my dick in your mouth? Your ass?”  
  
“I…” Jensen looks away again at Jared’s bluntness. But Jared needs to hear this. For his own peace of mind. So there’s no confusion. Not every Sub wants their Dom to fuck them. Not even most Subs. And sometimes, in all honesty, Jared isn’t prepared to stick his dick anywhere near them. But Jensen… Jared wants to get inside Jensen so badly he can taste it. God, Jared wants to dominate Jensen in every way possible. Wants to hold him down and make him beg for Jared’s cock to fill him up. But he won’t do it, not unless Jensen expressly asks.  
  
“I need you to say it, Jensen. For me.”  
  
Jensen takes a shuddery breath, his fingers tugging at the seams of his pants. And Jared thinks for one hellish minute, he’s not going to be able to do it. That anxiety and self-doubt are going to win out and steal this from both of them.  
  
He should have more faith.  
  
“I... I want you to… to fuck me. Please. I… want you to… fuck my face and… and my ass. Please, Jared.”  
  
Jensen’s cheeks are scarlet, a blush stealing up his neck, as he utters the words, breathy and faint, but still… it’s all the permission Jared needs. He nods. Normally at this point he would instruct Jensen to call him Sir, or Master, or maybe even Daddy if that’s what was required. But Jared is far too fond of the sound of his name rolling across Jensen’s tongue.  
  
“Strip,” he orders instead, simple and to the point.  
  
Jensen’s mouth drops open. It takes a second for him to respond. And then it’s with a question instead of compliance. Jared will forgive him. This time. “I… here? Now?”  
  
“Yes,” Jared says, lowering his voice. “Here. Now. And the next time I give you an order I expect you to follow it. You may be new at this, Jensen, but I’m sure you’re clever enough to do what you’re told.”  
  
“Sorry,” Jensen says. “I didn’t think we… sorry.” And then with only a quick glance towards the window he begins to strip.  
  
Jared feigns cool indifference as he watches, keeps his expression impassive even though there’s a twitching in his shorts that, if Jensen noticed, would certainly prove him a liar.  
  
Jensen takes off his sweater, his pants, his undershirt. He folds each item carefully, sets them down in a neat pile on the table. One black socks and then the other. He plays with the waistband of his plain blue boxer shorts for an age before eventually sliding them down his slim hips. And he may not have been sure he was going to go through with this, but he’d obviously taken some time to prepare himself. He’s shaved completely smooth.  
  
Jared licks his lips. Silently, he walks in a circle around Jensen, admires his lithe build, the narrowness of his waist, the generous curve of his ass, the hazelnut freckles that burst across his creamy skin, the soft peaks of his nipples. Jensen is breathtaking.  
  
“Well done,” Jared says, and allows himself to touch, runs his finger across Jensen’s collar bone. Jensen shivers. Jared’s fingers drift lower, his thumb brushing across a pebbled nipple. And then the other. And then, between thumb and forefinger, Jared pinches each nipple hard. From this distance, Jared sees Jensen’s reaction perfectly, the goosebumps breaking out across his skin, the dark burst of his pupils.  
  
“Perfect,” Jared whispers. And Jensen lets out a stuttered breath, his eyes fluttering closed.  
  
Needing a second to compose himself, Jared forces himself to turn away. This isn’t normal for him. He enjoys domming, sure. Gets off on it even. But he has control, damnit. He’s a professional. He doesn’t get hard from watching someone strip.  
  
But this guy… shit, this guy is something else. Something different. Special.  
  
“We’re not doing this here.”  Jared swallows down a lump in his throat to say. “Follow me. Crawl. On your hands and knees.”  
  
Jared doesn’t stop or turn around to see if Jensen is following the instruction. He knows he will. Jensen wants so badly to be good.  
  
Jared strolls through the house at a pace he knows Jensen will be able to keep up with, opening doors and peering in rooms. He finds a bathroom, a small study cluttered with books and pages of work, a cupboard, and finally a lounge, warm and comfortable with carpet on the floor and plump cushions on the couch. A small Christmas tree sits on a side-table in the corner of the room trying hard to look cheerful with its blinking silver lights. Jared can’t help but think it just looks painfully sad, the one lonely sign of Christmas in the room.  
  
Grabbing, what he presumes is the television remote from the coffee table, Jared makes himself comfortable on the sofa, legs sprawled wide. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Jensen stopping, still down on all fours, his skin pink with embarrassment, and his dick hanging hard between his legs.  
  
Ignoring Jensen for now, Jared flips on the television, flicks through the channels until he finds a Christmas movie, something light and fluffy, easy to watch and easier to ignore. Picking up a throw cushion from the sofa, fur-like fleece and feather soft, he tosses it on the floor between his spread thighs.  
  
“Kneel,” he says, pointing to the cushion and finally acknowledging Jensen. Jensen crawls the few feet to the cushion and, once situated in the centre of it, rises to his knees, arms loose at his sides. Jared can’t resist tracing his fingers across the natural pout of Jensen’s lips. Jensen’s mouth opens on a gasp, his tongue flicking out to lap at Jared’s fingertips. Jared lets him, for a second, then moves, caressing the sharp angle of his cheekbone, Jensen’s skin peach soft and perfect. Jared’s heart skips a beat or three when Jensen leans into the touch.  
  
“You’re so good,” Jared says. “So responsive for me.”  
  
Jensen’s cock twitches hard against his belly, proving Jared’s point.  
  
“Unbutton my pants, and take out my dick,” Jared orders, voice level and calm.  
  
Jensen’s hands squeeze into fists at his sides, anxiety rather than defiance, Jared suspects. But before Jared has to ask him again, or tally a punishment, Jensen’s fingers, trembling and unsure, are undoing Jared’s pants. It takes an age, in Jared’s mind at least, until the last button is released and Jared can shimmy his pants down a little until his dick is free, hard and red and excited to be this close to Jensen’s mouth.  
  
Jared watches Jensen’s throat bob as he swallows hard before licking his lips and leaning in just a fraction closer, his breath warm against Jared’s groin. Jared smirks, wraps his hand around his own dick, and turns his attention to the television.  
  
He can feel Jensen’s confusion.  
  
Head resting on the back of the sofa, Jared keeps his hand loose around his erection, jerking himself off slow and casual.  
  
Jensen grumbles under his breath.  
  
Jared runs his thumb over his dick, smears a drop of precome over the head.  
  
Frustration radiates from Jensen’s tensed muscles.  
  
Jared tightens his grip, thrusts his hips up into his fist.  
  
Jensen whines, involuntary and needy.  
  
Deigning to look down at him, Jared raises an eyebrow. “Something wrong, Jensen?”  
  
Jensen’s eyes are bright when they meet Jared’s, but he isn’t quite brave enough to voice the challenge that’s obviously lurking there.  
  
Jared pushes harder. “You see something you want, huh? Think you deserve to wrap those cock-hungry lips around my dick? Is that what you think, baby?”  
  
“Yes,” Jensen blurts out as Jared uses a firmer stroke to jerk himself off, another bead of precome blurting out of his slit. “Please, Jared.”  
  
Jared wipes up the sticky drop of liquid with his finger, lifts it to his own lips and sucks it off, smirking down at Jensen. Jensen’s whole body shudders, his dick looking almost angry despite it remaining completely untouched.  
  
“Well, sweetheart, I don’t think so. I don’t think you’ve done enough to deserve a gift that special yet. I tell you what though, my balls are getting pretty damn cold. How about you keep them warm for a while and then we’ll see if you’ll ever get that slutty mouth near my dick.”  
  
If Jared thought Jensen might balk or shy away, he’s proved very wrong. Jensen doesn’t even hesitate before sinking down so his ass is resting on his heels, his head tucked low between Jared’s thighs and his mouth finding a home around Jared’s balls. Jared curses under his breath, his dick pulsing in his hand.  
  
Jared can’t even pretend to watch the television now, his attention focussed on the man kneeling obediently between his legs. Jensen can’t fit both Jared’s heavy balls in his mouth at once, so he holds one for a few minutes and then the other, humming in gratitude and delight every time his lips wrap around Jared’s flesh. Soon, Jensen doesn’t even pretend that he’s simply warming Jared’s nuts, he licks and sucks, practically worshipping them until his face is smeared with spit and Jared is genuinely worried he might come from just this.  
  
Even then, Jared can’t resist reaching down with the hand he doesn’t have wrapped around his dick and cradling the back of Jensen's skull. He holds Jensen’s head still, his mouth so full his cheeks are bulging, and he’s shaking with the need to breathe. When he lets go, Jensen’s mouth falls open, gasping for breath, his chest flushed pretty and heaving. But he barely waits for a second before diving back to do it again.  
  
Eventually Jared has to stop him, the danger he’s going to lose control and come like a fucking amateur, all too real.  
  
“God,” Jared says, pushing Jensen away. “You’re so fucking greedy.”  
  
Jensen blinks up at him, his hand drifting, probably without thought, to his own neglected cock. Jared gives him enough rope to hang himself. Enough time to tug at his stiff erection, then he slaps Jensen across the face, hard enough to shock but not to bruise. “Did I say you could touch your slutty little dick?”  
  
“Sorry,” Jensen gasps, damp eyelashes fluttering. “I’m sorry, Jared.”  
  
“You will be,” Jared says, in such a conversational tone that Jensen doesn’t expect the next slap across his face.  
  
Palm tingling, and Jensen making surprised goldfish faces up at him, Jared stands up, pushing just hard enough with his foot against Jensen’s chest that Jensen loses his balance and topples back against the floor.  
  
“Touch yourself again, and I’ll take the cockcage out of my bag, and lock up your dick so tight you won’t come all weekend.” Though Jared does indeed have a cockcage amongst his bag full of toys, it’s an idle threat. Jensen doesn’t know that. He blinks up at Jared with huge eyes full of regret and tears. Part of Jared just want to pick up Jensen now, carry him to bed and fuck him slow and gentle until his tears have dried up. The other, more dominant part of Jared, wants to belt Jensen’s ass until its covered in welts and then fuck Jensen’s face so hard he doesn’t have any tears left to shed.  
  
“Bend over the arm of the sofa,” Jared snaps, angry more at himself than Jensen right now. He needs to start acting like a professional. None of this was in his plans. He meant to spend time easing Jensen into a scene. This is all too fast and hard for Jensen’s first time. But they’ve gone too far now to stop. Jensen would blame himself, think he’d done something wrong. Jared promises himself he’ll make it up to Jensen afterwards. Lavish him with the gentle touches and undivided attention he deserves.  
  
Jensen scrambles to obey, drapes himself over the arm of the sofa like a sacrificial offering, his dick trapped between his belly and the cushioned furniture. His skin, a pale canvas begging for Jared’s use.  
  
“Did you read my rules, Jensen?” Jared says, sliding his belt from its loops. “The contract that you signed before I even agreed to come here? The one that said you couldn’t touch yourself without permission? The one that said I would punish you if you did?”  
  
“Yes, I’m sorry,” Jensen mumbles, repentant, against the sofa cushions. “I promise I won’t do it again.”  
  
“No,” Jared agrees. “You won’t.”  
  
He doubles his belt, leather worn and soft, and smacks Jensen across the underside of his ass. It’s not a hard slap, more of a tap, but Jensen still lets out a hurt yelp.  
  
Jared puts just a little more weight behind the next swing, catching Jensen across the middle of his cheeks, the plump flesh bouncing under the impact, and the pale skin flashing white before flushing deep pink.  
  
Jensen moans and humps down against the arm of the sofa.  
  
Spanking, slapping, paddling, belting, flogging, caning… all highlighted requests on Jensen’s list of wants. From his reaction, Jared can see why.  
  
He still doesn’t swing too hard. He doesn’t know Jensen well enough, yet, to know how much he can take. How much he wants to take. But Jared covers the back of Jensen’s thighs and the generous curve of his ass in perfectly-placed stripes. Until Jensen is sobbing and grinding against the sofa in desperate little circles.  
  
“I’d say you were a good boy,” Jared says, tossing his belt down not far from Jensen’s head. “But you’re about to come all over the sofa just from my belt and I don’t think good boys do that.”  
  
Jensen’s hips immediately still, even though he lets out a needy whine.  
  
If Jared didn’t want to feel Jensen’s lips around his dick quite so badly, he’d jerk himself off right there, shoot his load across the beautiful sight of Jensen’s heated skin and then leave Jensen lying there hard, wanting, and begging for attention. But fuck, it’s Christmas, Jared deserves a treat. So does Jensen.  
  
“On your knees, baby,” Jared says instead. “Show me how talented that slutty mouth of yours is.”  
  
Slowly, wincing, Jensen levers himself up from his prone position and then turns and drops to his knees, tear-stained face tilted up and bitten-red mouth wide open.  
  
Who could resist an invitation so sweet... not Jared.  
  
Jared teases first, slaps his cock across Jensen’s flushed cheeks, does it again and again until Jensen chases after his dick like a hungry puppy.  
  
“That’s it, baby,” Jared says, cupping Jensen’s head and feeding his dick into Jensen’s baby-bird mouth. Jensen swallows him down like he’s starving for cock. For _Jared’s_ cock. Jared lets Jensen set the pace at first. Lets him use his tongue to swipe at the thick head, to lick up the fat vein on the underside of Jared’s dick. Lets him suck and tease and play.  
  
And then Jared takes control. Holds Jensen’s head still, thrusts inside his mouth until his dick is halfway down Jensen’s throat, his pubes tickling up Jensen’s nostrils, his balls smashed against Jensen’s chin.  
  
Jensen makes the most delicious sound of surprise, a needy gasp. But, rather than struggle or attempt to break away, he goes lax under Jared’s hold. His eyes darting up to look at Jared, hunger and thanks and awe in his gaze.  
  
Jared almost comes on the spot. Has to look away and grip his dick tight at the base to stop himself. He counts down from five slowly. Five, four three… Jensen swallows and chokes, struggles to hold him in his throat, still doesn’t pull away… two, one… tears stream down Jensen’s face. Jared retreats, long enough for Jensen to suck in a breath and swallow. And then, fingers twisting in Jensen’s hair, Jared does what he’s been desperate to do since he walked into the house; fucks Jensen’s too-pretty mouth.  
  
“Perfect,” he says. “Such a perfect slutty mouth. This is what you want, isn’t it, baby? Just want to be a good little fucktoy for me to use.”  
  
Jensen’s eyes flutter shut, his shoulders tremble and his dick jerks hard. Jared groans and thrusts harder, his balls, full and tight, slapping loud against Jensen’s spit-soaked chin.  
  
“God, Jensen, you’re amazing. Beautiful.” Jared gasps, ramming his cock so hard down Jensen’s throat it bulges.  
  
“Fuck,” Jared says, swivelling his hips, and drawing his dick out just far enough to allow Jensen to inhale, and to give himself the leverage to shove back in again. His orgasm isn’t far away, pleasure dragging up his spine, rolling in his belly.  
  
“So pretty, baby. Such a pretty hole. Made for me. _Just_ for me. Gonna swallow my come down like the grateful slut you are, aren’t you?”  
  
Jared pinches Jensen nose shut, slams his dick in hard. “Jesus, that’s it, baby, take it… take it all for me… my good boy.”  
  
Jensen’s whole body jolts like he’s been punched in the gut. And Jared comes with a shout, pulse after pulse shooting out of him, flooding Jensen’s mouth. He lets go of Jensen’s nose immediately, even while he’s struggling to remember his own name, struggling to breathe. One hand resting on Jensen's shoulder to hold himself up, he slips his dick from Jensen’s mouth, come still dribbling from the tip, smears it across Jensen’s face. Strings of jizz leak from the corners of Jensen’s abused lips, drip down his chin, curl down his throat.  
  
Jensen’s chest is flushed red and fluttering, his dick, untouched, soft and spent between his legs, come sticking to his belly, trickling down the inside of his thighs.  
  
“Fuck,” Jared whispers. “You’re perfect.”  
  
Jensen, utterly debauched, and covered in come, blushes.  
  
“Can I keep you?” Jared says, almost to himself.  
  
“Yes,” Jensen says, not a lie reflecting in clear green-glass eyes. “Please.”  
  
In the corner of the room, the Christmas tree seems to sparkle its approval.

  
Finis  
Thank you for reading! 

 


End file.
